The Suffering Sky-Rockets

When the first tremors struck, they appeared.

Most of us had never seen one, certainly not a whole school of them, but there they were, hundreds of them, circling above our tiny island.

When one of them landed, no one was quite sure what to do. Was it hurt? Did it need help? We offered it food and water, but it just stared at the crowd with its large, mournful eye.

Suddenly the mountain exploded and the ocean started to boil. As panic set in, the mob began desperately climbing onto the creature's broad, flat back. When there was no more room for even one more person, it took to the sky, and another took its place... and then another, and another, until our entire population was huddled upon the back's of the flying giants.

Then they took us across the open sea.

As the hours passed, signs of distress began to creep into their songs. They were never meant to fly so low, for so long. Yet in spite of the pain from the higher pressure and the burden of our weight, they never faltered. They carried us all to safety.

Only when the last of us was standing on solid ground again, did they allow themselves the blessed relief of soaring back up beyond the clouds... back where they belonged.